


A Well-timed Proposal. (Updated 5/31/17.)

by CuriouslyIndecisive



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriouslyIndecisive/pseuds/CuriouslyIndecisive
Summary: Upon arriving at the Winter Palace for the Exalted Council, Cullen reflects on his relationship with Trevelyan.





	A Well-timed Proposal. (Updated 5/31/17.)

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was heavily re-written since the original posting because I wasn't proud of it. This one's better.

Two years had passed since he'd watched her march toward the ruins near Skyhold to face Corypheus. He'd stood by, powerless to prevent it, as she'd led Morrigan, Solas, Cassandra, and Cole into what could very well have been their doom. She was determined, fearless, her eyes blazing and hand aglow as she faced down a creature-who-would-be-a-god with only four friends, knowledge, and luck on her side. The only woman Cullen had ever loved had left his side that day to face seemingly insurmountable odds; they were not ready, it was too soon, but there was no other option.

And yet, miraculously, she'd survived; they _all_ had. He was selfishly concerned for her above everything else, but all five of them had survived the battle. Morrigan came back battered, truly, but alive nonetheless, and the other four were no worse for the wear. Frankly they were ecstatic, and rightfully so - Corpypheus was defeated. They'd saved the whole bloody world.

It was an imperfect victory. Solas vanished shortly after and even Leliana had been unable to locate him. Thedas was still littered with stray rifts that needed closing, as well as apostate mages and red templars besides. But the Inquisition had succeeded; the Breach was closed, Corypheus was vanquished, and the long, slow process of healing could begin. It was a historical, joyous, and momentous victory.

But now, two years later, those feelings were fading. The Inquisition had formed to restore order to the land and that mission did not end with Corypheus. Demons continued to pour into Ferelden and Orlais through still-open rifts. Fighting didn't end overnight between templars and mages. The Inquisition had remained, combating demons, halting hostilities, bringing peace and tranquility where none could be found.

And still Ferelden and Orlais were proving difficult. Ferelden, because of The Inquisition's ties to Empress Celene, claimed the organization was a hostile foreign army in their lands. Orlais, publicly feigning disinterest, spent every waking moment in private attempting to manipulate the Inquisition into doing its bidding. They'd remained neutral while attempting to complete their work for as long as it had been possible - but that time had ended. Cassandra, now Divine Victoria, could delay it no longer; the Exalted Council had been called.

As though the Inquisitor did not have enough problems politically, she was personally troubled as well. Only the Inner Circle knew, but the mark had begun to spread once again. Though she put on a brave face, the Inquisitor slept more, ate less, and suffered a loss of strength and control in her left arm that affected her bow work. They did not have Solas' expertise to rely upon this time, but they'd done their best; hours were spent in Skyhold's library, pouring over thick and ancient volumes in search of an answer. They'd called in political favors and gathered even more books from across the realm, but it had not made a difference. They'd even approached Dagna about crafting a device that might perhaps inhibit the mark and buy time, but she, too, had come up empty handed. Their combined knowledge, skill, and dedication had not proven enough to stop, or even slow, what they all plainly saw - the mark was killing Nym Trevelyan.

Cullen returned to the world around him, the storm of thoughts and worries in his head brushed aside for the moment. He and Josie followed behind the Inquisitor as they rode slowly up the promenade toward Halamshiral, Orlais' Winter Palace. Despite her hidden worries, Nym looked every bit the refined and dignified leader in formal dress. She radiated a quiet, serene confidence he found incredibly alluring. How she managed to be so comfortable in these Maker-damned coats he'd never know, but he'd lost just a bit of loathing for it when she'd told him this morning how very dashing he looked in his.

He reached up unconsciously to nervously rub the back of his neck and his mind drifted once again, this time to their first visit to the palace. He'd been bold that night, asking her for a dance on one of the palace's many balconies. She'd agreed, and though he wasn't one for dancing, he'd tried his best for her. He remembered the moment fondly. It was the lone bright spot at the end of an evening spent deflecting unwelcome proposals of marriage. He imagined now that those suitors were all quite happy to have been turned down given the precarious fate of the Inquisition. It was his only worth - outside the title of Commander, he held no lands and had no noble name.

Cullen watched Trevelyan ride and thought again, as he had that night, that hers is the only attention worth having. He knew that lands and titles made no difference to her. He knew that she loved him despite his past, despite his addiction, despite being a poor Fereldan farm-boy who'd simply managed to get very, very lucky. He was confident that she would say yes when he asked her to marry him. Here, in the company of all their closest friends, who'd really become a second family, he was going to ask her if she'd spend the rest of her life with him, however long it might be. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to spend as much time with her as he could, to show her she meant more to him than anything else ever had. And if she said yes, he could add a memory to the list of good ones that, with her help, had finally outgrown the bad.

Josie startled him suddenly from his reverie with a poke in his side. “Why are you grinning like an idiot?” she playfully hissed at him.

“You’ll see,” he replied, not bothering to stop grinning idiotically.


End file.
